


How Precious the Sound

by colormejaded



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, hedgehog!louis, plus the Tomlinson family circa 2014, punk!harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 11:48:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11966742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colormejaded/pseuds/colormejaded
Summary: Louis Tomlinson finds out just exactly how much he has in common with his sister’s pet hedgehog, and then does some things which are very decidedly un-hedgehog-like.





	How Precious the Sound

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I wrote all the way back in 2014, so it's kind of old, and some things are firmly set in that understanding of the world. I'll post more of it if people would like to read it, so please let me know.
> 
> Based on gloubear's very old post (that doesn't exist anymore so please don't bother them <3), "AU where punk!Harry finds hedgehog!Louis lost on the street and brings him home to wash him in the sink then afterwards rocking him in his tattooed hands".

“Mum! Fizzy took my straightener and she won’t give it back!”

Louis buries himself under the duvet and tries to block out the sound of his noisy sisters packing.

“Well, her stupid little sea urchin is sleeping on my pink jumper!”

“It is so not a sea urchin!”

“Is too, Lottie! It’s all pokey and gross. Mum!”

He burrows deeper.

His two youngest sisters, Daisy and Phoebe, whiz by his bedroom door, screeching absolutely nothing at the top of their lungs. This is definitely not what he anticipated for his winter break from university. That is to say, he expected _some_ degree of craziness, but all of his sisters have grown much more…

“Mum! Daisy’s running with Miss Thistle!”

Shrill.

“Daisy, put down Miss Thistle and come into the kitchen. Phoebe, you need to finish your cereal before you’re allowed anything on the train.”

“Don’t tell her to just put her _down_ , god, Mum!”

“Why, ‘cause she might run away, into the woods, where she _belongs_?”

“Shut _up_ , Fizzy, god. Mum!”

He could’ve stayed. He could’ve braved the winter in Manchester with Stan. He could’ve been sitting in his apartment, playing FIFA all day, shopping every other day, and having pretty boys offer to buy him drinks at clubs. But no. Why didn’t he just bloody stay at uni for a month? Heaven above, why?

Of course, Louis knows the reason why. He couldn’t very well stay at uni when his mother was pleading with him, saying she hadn’t seen him “in practically three years, Lou, really,” which was a bit of an exaggeration, considering he visited them for at least 2 weeks before fall term. But nonetheless, he couldn’t argue with his wonderful mother, who raised him and four little girls practically on her own at times. No, he simply had to come home to all of this.

“Can I bring Ferdy on the train, Mummy?”

“Me too, can I bring Lawrence?”

“Only if you promise you won’t lose them.”

Louis plods over to his closet and yanks on a pair of skinny jeans.

“Promise.”

“Yes, we promise, Mummy.”

“Alright, then, Daisy, Phoebe, go get your coats and mitts on, and I’ll come by with your hats in a moment. Lottie! Fizzy! Bring your bags down!”

After a moment of consideration, he pulls out a navy blue jumper and a black tshirt to go under it so he doesn’t freeze to death.

“Louis, are you almost ready?”

He picks up his bag, packed the night before, and drops it back on the floor with a thump, a silent affirmative.

“Mum, if they’re bringing their dolls, can I bring Miss Thistle?”

“Lottie, she’s going to get squashed in London, and I’ll have to smother you to be able to sleep at night!”

“Fizz, stuff it, go pluck your eyebrows or something. Mum, please, I want to take pictures of her looking cute on things so I can post them!”

Lastly, Louis tugs a maroon-coloured beanie over his messy hair. He thinks he looks alright for rolling right out of bed.

“She’s your hedgehog; don’t lose her.”

“Thanks mum! Oh my god, do you want a little cap, Miss Thistle?”

“I swear, Lott, you kiss that _thing_ more than you do your own boyfriend, honestly!”

“Oh, sod off!”

“Language, Lott.”

“Yes, mum.”

Louis grabs his bag, hoists the strap onto his shoulder, and stuffs his phone in his back pocket. He wonders if he’s going to survive the trip to the train station, much less the entire week in London.

They do, however, make it to the station in one piece, although from the way Felicity is whining about Daisy hanging onto her, one would never be able to tell. His mother is an absolute saint, and no one will ever convince him otherwise.

Lottie sidles up to him, smiling sweetly. “Hey, Lewis.”

It’s beyond weird being called one thing by his family, and a complete other by all his college friends. Though, he guesses it is his Year 10 Drama teacher’s fault for supposing it was pronounced the French way, and planting the idea to permanently keep it like that. But it’s not that big of a deal, he reasons, maybe it’s a mark of the people he’s closest to. He grins sardonically back at her. “What can I do for you today, Lott?”

She twists from side to side, gripping the strap of her muted pink duffel bag with one hand, and cradling a snuffling hedgehog in the other. “Could you maybe hold my bag for me, possibly?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “And I get what for it, huh?”

“Um, a hug from your favorite sister?”

“Oh, so Fizzy’s in on this too?”

Lottie hits him with her pet-free hand, frowning good-naturedly. “Prick. Please carry it?”

He sighs heavily, takes the bag from her shoulder, and begins walking towards the train. “Fine, but only if you promise me you’ll use some other word than that.”

She hurries to keep up with him. “Bastard?”

“Much better.”

 

The inside of the train is a sickly yellow colour, and the seats don’t fare much better in a shade of puke green. But they’re comfortable, and thank the heavens above, there’s only one table of four left, and that’s all the way down the car from two seats facing a wall and the back of the next car. Which means his mum, the twins, and Felicity, who still has yet to shut up about her personal space, are separated from him and Lottie. On one hand, peace and quiet. On the other hand, hedgehog-obsessed teenager who will ignore him for the entirety of the trip in favor of texting her friends. Eh, could be worse.

Louis pulls his beanie down farther on his head and swats Lottie’s upper arm. “Wake me up when we’re almost there, yeah?”

“What if I need to, you know, _go_?”

He lifts up the bottom just enough so that he can see light. “Ok, Lottie, you are how old? What do you think?”

She hums. “Fine, I’ll just balance Miss Thistle on your head.”

“You do that.”

Louis is far too tired to care at this point. He didn’t use to be the type to conk out on the train, but then his sleep schedule sort of became non-existent, and then he gained the ability to sleep anywhere. Literally anywhere. One time Stan found him in their shared bathroom, foamy-mouthed and toothbrush in hand, leaning his forehead against the mirror and leaving artsy drool streaks down its length. On weekends, that sort of thing is just annoying, but it moves up to unacceptable on weekdays when he has class. And, it’s just not sanitary.

He drifts off, and finds himself in a purple-green hazed dream world, filled with pop stars and off-beat music and pretty boys. Louis doesn’t find this normal, but it doesn’t actually strike him as odd until he sees carrots, with eyes and mouths, walking around and dancing. 

Nope. Nope, he is waking up now.

Except when Louis opens his eyes, he’s met with the beady black ones of Miss Thistle. The animal licks his nose tentatively, and Louis hears a gasp from beside him.

“Oh my god, hedgehogs actually do that? That’s _so_ cute!”

He turns to see her bring the hedgehog’s face to her nose, but it just wrinkles its forehead and stares at her. Louis snickers.

“I think it likes me better, eh Lott?”

Lottie frowns. “ _She_ does not like you better; you probably had salt on your nose or something.”

Louis snorts a little louder than he had intended. “Oh sure Lottie, I just pour salt on my nose right before I have a kip, really relaxes the body, y’see.”

She doesn’t reply, so he pulls his beanie back down and crosses his arms. Might as well get as much rest as he can before the hectic week ahead. At least he gets his own bed at the hotel.

This time, Louis stars in a very vivid dream which places him and several people he doesn’t know on a competitive singing show. They’re made to answer lots of questions and dress oddly and smile all day long, and Louis feels like he’s got a tightening collar around his neck the whole time.

The weirdest thing is, though, that they’re all still in the competition, even though it technically ended, and he’s still being followed around by cameras and the leash is getting shorter and shorter and he can’t even hug his friends anymore and his cheeks hurt from smiling and—

“Louis!” hisses Lottie, shaking his shoulder.

He jerks awake and glares at her. “What, is the train on fire?”

“No.” Lottie purses her lips and threads her fingers through her free-hanging locks. “I have to wee.”

“Good, have fun, don’t fall in.”

“Louis.”

He rolls his eyes back to her. “Hmmm?”

She holds out the hedgehog. “Miss Thistle?”

Louis takes the hedgehog, and grunts. “This thing is not comfy at all, Lott, you had better hurry.”

“Thank you!” she chirps, and Louis, not for the first time, questions if they’re actually related.

The hedgehog begins wiggling its nose and sniffing out past the reach of Louis’ hands. He brings his hands closer to his chest. “Whoa there! Need you in one piece when she gets back.” Louis squints out the window. “Wonder how long she let me sleep.”

A huffing comes from between his hands.

“Oh, come on, she’ll be back soon, hush up, yeah?”

The huffing increases, coupled with a few throaty sounds.

Louis frowns. “Promise, she won’t be a minute. For fuck’s sake, I’m talking to it now,” he mutters.

At just that moment, the train car jolts upward and slams back down with an audible crash and an ear-splitting screech, the noises following making it clear that the rest of the cars down the line have done the same.

All Louis can see are the blue of his sweater and the maroon of his hat. He must’ve slid down in his seat when the train lurched. He can hear the sound of people around him chattering away, probably worried about something or other. Louis makes to sit up, and… nothing changes. Maybe he can push his beanie up out of the way? Nope.

He shakes his head, trying to see if that will help any, and—light! Just ahead. Louis moves his head towards it, and thankfully, it actually gets closer. Just a few more inches and…

The sickly yellow color of the train. Except, it’s not what he’s seen the rest of the time; the poster promoting polite train habits is way higher than it was just a moment before. Louis looks down, and sees not the fabric of his jeans, but… the puke green of the seats? He’s about to turn around and ask someone if they know where his trousers are, but then he sees them on the floor in front of him. Ok, simple enough, pick up the trousers that weirdly fell off during a train ride and put them back on, no big deal. He begins to lean forward and reach for them when he sees it.

A hedgehog paw.

Right where his hand is supposed to be.

Well, shit.


End file.
